


I Saw Steve Punching Santa Claus

by Selenay



Series: Damage Limitation [8]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awesome Phil Coulson, Christmas, Clint Needs a Hug, Doom-bots, F/F, Humor, M/M, Thanksgiving, Tony Stark puts AIs in everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil sighed and locked his computer. "I used to have authority around here."</p>
<p>Darcy snickered. "Yeah, boss, but then you let Director Fury make you the Avengers' liaison and you hooked up with one of them and you hired me. Don't pretend you haven't made some bad life choices there if you were looking for some authority."</p>
<p>"I didn't hire you," Phil corrected as he closed his office door and followed Darcy down the corridor. "You are my penance for some terrible mistake I haven't identified yet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw Steve Punching Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I couldn't quite resist the temptation to write the Damage Limitation Christmas episode.
> 
> Who am I kidding? I've been plotting this for months :-D Happy Christmas!

"Agent Coulson?"

Phil turned his attention from the huge bank of monitors to the junior agent manning communications.

"Call from you on line four," the agent said apologetically. "Shall I patch it through?"

"Who is it?" Phil asked.

"She wouldn't give her name."

It was all Phil needed to know. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before nodding and telling the agent to go ahead. A moment later there was a quiet click in his earpiece.

"How can I help you, Ms Lewis?" he asked.

There was a brief pause before Darcy said, "How do you do that?"

"It's a gift." He resisted the urge to hang up on her. She'd just call back. "You called for something?"

"Yes." There was a long indrawn breath. "Sort of. Maybe. It's just...we need a good news story boss-man. Like, seriously, if I have to run damage control on another story about how the Avengers destroyed the Thanksgiving Day parade plus half of Manhattan, I might cry. I thought you should know that. We all need a really good news story right now. Did you know that magazines actually add up all the damage we cause every year? And publish big articles about it? Because they do. And they will. They publish them next week. Boss, we need something to go right so we can point to it and say-"

"Ms Lewis," Phil said sharply, breaking into a tirade that was starting to acquire an edge of hysteria.

"Yes?"

"I'm working on it. And that means I need to concentrate."

"Oh. Right." There was another shaky breath. "I just thought you should know."

"I do know."

"Yes. Yes, I can see that. I'll just...go now. Shall I?"

Phil nearly smiled, almost, but he managed to fight it down. "That would be appreciated, Ms Lewis."

The line went dead in his air and Phil sighed. Darcy might be starting to sound a bit stressed but she had a good point. They needed some positive publicity right now because the year hadn't gone well and the list of things the Avengers had accomplished was looking a bit shaky next to the astronomical repair bills from their adventures.

Somehow, even though last year's Chitauri invasion had been even more expensive than most of the Avengers' recent exploits, people had been willing to overlook it far more easily than the various escaped science projects and superpowered villains they'd fought this year. There was no logic to it that Phil could see and it felt unfair, but there it was. When the year was wrapped up in the media nobody would remember the slaughter and devastation the Avengers had prevented.

They'd remember the Avengers covered in goop. Or the buildings that had been damaged.

Or Disneyworld.

Phil pushed that all aside and concentrated on the huge bank of monitors in front of him. They had cameras on every mile of the parade route, they had cameras monitoring the buildings around the route, they even had cameras attached to some of the balloons just in case.

There were agents positioned everywhere.

There was a no fly zone in place.

Banner had promised not to let the Other Guy come out to play no matter what happened.

If there were any problems along the route, it wouldn't be due to a lack of preparation from SHIELD or the Avengers.

They'd still get blamed and the damages would still all be attributed to them, but at least they'd _tried_ not to destroy the Thanksgiving Parade by their mere presence near it.

There was a quiet double-click in Phil's earpiece and he tapped it, switching to a private comm channel out of pure habit.

"Has Darcy finished her freak-out?" 

Clint's voice was warm in Phil's ear and he couldn't stop the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth even though it was inappropriate. He wasn't going to ask how Clint had got hold of a comm and patched into the system. Stark was probably involved, which made it something Phil definitely wanted to stay out of.

He lowered his voice and moved away from the monitors to a quieter part of the room. "How did you know she was calling me?"

"She's been keeping me company this morning," Clint said. "She disappeared with her phone and a bag of popcorn so I figured she was multi-tasking: freaking out at you and getting the popcorn ready for some intense parade watching."

"She seemed a little stressed," Phil said.

There was a low chuckle. "That's one way of putting it. I think she's taking it as a personal insult that I'm still trapped in medical so I can't be in the parade."

"Oh? I thought she'd be relieved."

Phil couldn't see it, but he was fairly sure Clint was probably making inappropriate gestures to the phone.

"Two weeks ago you loved me," Clint said. "Now you don't want me making public appearances. I feel treasured, I really do."

"I'm just thinking of Darcy's nerves," Phil said blandly. "You not being in the parade reduces her potential heart attack risk by approximately one sixth."

"Tony's right, finding it sexy when you talk stats is probably an indication of something unhealthy."

Phil felt his ears heat but sometimes the temptation to push boundaries was too much to resist. "How do you feel about budget data?"

There was a short silence. "Fuck. I am a sick, twisted man."

"Exactly how bored are you?" Phil asked curiously.

"I voluntarily read my back-logged memos last night." Clint sighed. "I'm bored and you talking paperwork is turning me on. I need to get out of this hellhole."

"As soon as you can use your crutches without popping any stitches, they'll let you come home." Phil glanced over at the monitors and sighed. Talking to Clint, even a bored, whiny Clint, held a lot more appeal than trying to monitor the activity around this parade. "Just a few more days."

"They're threatening to feed me a turkey dinner later," Clint said. "I don't want my memories of turkey dinner tainted by the memory of whatever disgusting mess they try to call turkey here. Can't you organise a jail break?"

"No." Phil paused deliberately before adding, "But I can bring you Chinese food later, if you'd like."

"I'd like. I'd very much like."

"I have to go now," Phil said regretfully.

There was a quiet sigh and Clint said, "I know, I'm distracting you. Go save Darcy's Thanksgiving. I smell popcorn so I think she's on her way back."

"Have fun."

"Will do."

The line clicked and went dead. Phil allowed himself a brief moment to smile and savour the memory of Clint's voice before putting on his 'trained, professional agent' face and returning to the barely-contained chaos of his cameras and several dozen junior agents. The parade was just about to start and Phil wasn't going to relax until everything was over.

However it ended.

***

Phil eyed his inbox, counting the number of emails with little exclamation marks next to them.

He eyed the flashing light on his phone indicating there were messages.

He glared at the stack of files on his desk that had materialised since lunchtime.

He looked up to where Darcy was waiting impatiently in the doorway.

"Boss, it'll all still be here tomorrow," she said. "Trust me. Nobody is going to steal your reports overnight and you aren't staying to finish them. You know what happens if you stay to finish them? Natasha takes Clint home and he bitches to her for the next week about how his boyfriend can't even tear himself away from work long enough to bring him home from the hospital. "

"I wasn't thinking about staying," Phil protested. "And he's not my boyfriend."

"You were thinking about taking those files home to work on. That's just as bad." Darcy narrowed her eyes. "And what the hell do you call him if he's not your boyfriend?"

Phil paused. Thought for a moment. Frowned. "Partner?"

"You old romantic you." Darcy flapped a hand urgently. "Come on, time's wasting. Don't make me call Natasha."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Phil sighed and locked his computer. "I used to have authority around here."

Darcy snickered. "Yeah, boss, but then you let Director Fury make you the Avengers' liaison and you hooked up with one of them and you hired me. Don't pretend you haven't made some bad life choices there if you were looking for some authority."

"I didn't hire you," Phil corrected as he closed his office door and followed Darcy down the corridor. "You are my penance for some terrible mistake I haven't identified yet."

"Don't make me switch you to decaff again, boss."

***

"Agent Coulson?"

Phil paused at the door to Clint's room and turned to see Doctor Roberts hurrying down the corridor to him. He smiled politely and waited for the doctor, who was carrying a white paper bag and his ever-present clipboard.

"Are you here to take Agent Barton home?" Roberts asked, gesturing for Phil to proceed into the room.

"We all are," Darcy piped up from where she was standing in the corner of the room. "Figured it would take all of us to get his flower stash home."

There had been a surprising - or maybe not so surprising when anyone thought about it - public reaction to Clint's injury and SHIELD medical had been inundated with flowers, chocolates, and other gifts.

Nobody was willing to discuss how an address had been found to send them to. Fury had ranted for five straight minutes about their history of security breaches.

Most of the flowers and chocolates had been diverted to other causes, but after careful vetting some had been forwarded to Clint's room. It was like a gift shop in there. The vetting team apparently had a sense of humour, though: they'd diverted most of the gifts, but they'd allowed a few through including a pack of thongs from 'an ardent admirer'. Darcy had taken a picture of Clint, still dopey and bruised, holding a purple thong with a befuddled expression.

It had caused a Twitter storm for two days and Phil had carefully deleted every email Darcy sent him with Tumblr links. It was no surprise that she had been so desperate for a good Thanksgiving media story.

Doctor Roberts grinned at the vases and buckets of flowers before sobering slightly and holding out the paper bag.

"See that he takes these," he said. "Instructions are in the bag. He's given it back to the nurses three times so far."

"I'll make sure he takes them," Phil promised.

"He really does need to take them."

"Oh, don't worry, he'll take them," Natasha said with a sharp smile. "We have ways."

"I'm sitting right here," Clint protested.

Natasha put down the duffle bag she was loading up with spare pyjamas so she could pat him gently on the cheek. "We know you are. We also know you hate taking pills."

"Nat, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to hit people who are still recovering from internal injuries," Clint said.

Natasha shrugged. "Who said anything about hitting?"

"Thank you, Doctor Roberts," Phil said quickly, before the doctor could start asking any questions. "We'll make sure he's looked after. Thank you for everything."

"It was a pleasure, sir," Roberts said with a slightly confused grin.

Phil waited for him to leave and then surveyed the room. Natasha and Darcy seemed to have Clint's personal effects packed and the flowers and gifts organised into piles for disposal or removal. Clint was sitting on the edge of his bed wearing a hospital scrub shirt and sweat pants that had one leg cut off at the knee to accommodate his cast. He had a look on his face that Phil recognised as the one he used when he was trying to pretend everything was fine but it really wasn't.

"We'll just start loading up the car," Darcy said quietly. "Take your time, boss."

Natasha picked up the duffle bag and a bucket of flowers. "Don't take too much time."

"We won't," Phil promised.

"Thanks Darce, Nat," Clint said as they hurried out.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Clint seemed to slump slightly

"Tired?" Phil asked.

"I'm looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed with a decent mattress where nobody wakes me up three times through the night to check my blood pressure," Clint said. "How are people supposed to heal if we're never allowed to sleep?"

"I think you're supposed to hate being here so much you heal faster just to get out," Phil said dryly. "In your case, that's probably a bad idea."

"I didn't attempt to escape once," Clint said. "I was good."

"Hmm." Phil moved to the bed so he could brush a quick kiss on Clint's cheek. "I haven't received any written complaints yet so I'll assume you're telling the truth."

Clint shrugged. "Someone promised me a reward if I behaved."

Phil shook his head. "If I'd known bribing you with sex would reduce the complaints from our medical staff, I would have tried it years ago."

"It's a shame you didn't," Clint agreed. "All that time wasted."

"All that unnecessary paperwork."

"Gonna bribe me with sex to take my pills?"

"If that's what it takes."

Clint pretended to consider it. "That's probably what it'll take. But hey, it's a reward for both of us so it all works out."

"You're so kind."

"Hey, I'm a giver." Clint grinned. "Let it never be said that Clint Barton isn't generous with his body."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Phil paused and considered. "Were you planning to get dressed before you leave?"

Clint gave him an awkward half smile. "Yeah. But I got a little...uh..."

There was a t-shirt and hoodie on a chair in the corner, a black boot and sock on the floor under it, and Phil understood. He fetched the clothes and boot and helped Clint pull off the scrub shirt, which was a little tight around the shoulders and had obviously been put on by a nurse because there was no way Clint could have managed it with the scars on his chest and abdomen still fresh and painful. It was the shirt that had obviously been the issue and he probably hadn't wanted to worry Darcy and Natasha. Phil handed him the t-shirt and hoodie, which were easy to slip on despite the healing scars, and knelt to help him with the sock and boot.

"So, I've been thinking," Clint said, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. "Want a roommate for a few weeks? Just while I'm healing up? I've been having fantasies about how comfortable your bed is."

Phil ducked his head to keep his eyes on the laces he was trying. It also hid the pink he was certain was heating his face, but that was complete coincidence.

"Two conditions," Phil said slowly.

"Name them."

"You don't eat anything in bed. And you stay on your side so I don't get hit in the shins with that cast all night."

Phil stood up and met Clint's eyes steadily. A wide grin appeared on Clint's face.

"You already moved some of my stuff down to your quarters, didn't you?" Clint said.

"I might have made sure you had some clean clothes if you wanted to stay, yes," Phil said with a casual shrug.

"Uh uh." Clint rolled his eyes. "Subtle, Phil."

"I try." Phil looked around the room, which looked much emptier now that a lot of the gifts and cards had been taken out. "Ready to go home?"

"I was ready last week," Clint said with feeling.

***

Several days later Phil surveyed the group of people he usually tried to feel honoured to work with. Usually because sometimes there were days, like today, when his job as so-called SHIELD liaison for the Avengers felt more like acting as nanny to a group of oversized toddlers.

Or maybe cat herding would be a more apt description.

Darcy and Natasha were sitting on the sofa in the rec room where Clint had been installed every day. They had allowed Clint to drape his blankets and legs across their laps and the three of them were sharing a large bowl of popcorn. Phil was trying to ignore their matching gleeful expressions.

"Can any of you explain what you thought you were doing?" he asked, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of his nose because it never stopped the headaches.

"Singing carols?" Steve offered.

Steve's face was an interesting shade of pink. Banner also looked rueful and Thor looked torn between embarrassment and confusion. Stark, of course, was smirking because his sense of shame had been removed before he could walk.

Phil sighed. "Why were you singing carols?"

"It's the second weekend in December," Bruce said. "It seemed appropriate."

"In Macy's?"

"We were Christmas shopping," Banner said carefully.

"Together?" Phil asked sceptically.

There was complete silence, which told him a lot.

"I probably don't want to know, do I?" Phil asked rhetorically.

"Friend Steve and friend Bruce were aiding me in selecting a gift for my Jane," Thor said innocently.

Phil glared at them. "And somehow that turned into you joining forces to sing carols in the middle of the store?"

"Yeah, I'm still not totally clear on how that happened," Stark said. "It's just one of those things."

"You. Singing carols. In a department store." Phil took a calming breath. "With cameras from three TV stations. It just happened."

Stark shrugged. "I go somewhere, cameras happen."

"It's so strange," Banner said thoughtfully. "It's almost like they know where you're going."

"In my defence," Stark said and then hesitated.

"There is no defence," Darcy said, throwing a piece of popcorn at his head.

"Hey, we sang carols and the TV stations caught it," Stark said. "I didn't think anyone could have an issue with it."

Phil levelled a glare at him. "My issue is that the parts the cameras caught didn't have family friendly lyrics."

"We improvised," Stark said quickly. "Ran out of words we knew, you know how it goes."

"Were those not the correct words?" Thor asked.

Banner had the look of a man trying not to giggle. "No, not...not exactly."

Steve's blush was nearly fluorescent. "I'm sorry, Agent Coulson, Darcy, it seemed harmless at the time."

"Hey, you guys were fully clothed, no property damage was done, and you were singing so badly nobody could make out most of the words anyway." Darcy shrugged. "From a PR stand point, this was, like, one of the tamest things you guys have done all year."

There was a brief pause and then, sounding slightly dejected, Stark said, "Huh."

Banner shrugged. "She has a point. There are worse things we could have done."

Steve smiled and his blush faded a little. "That's true."

"See?" Darcy said with a grin. "It's Christmas, everyone is too panicked or filled with Christmas cheer to care what we do. I mean, unless all the Santas around the city turn out to be Doombots in disguise or something, we're fine." 

There was a long, horrified silence.

"Bruce," Stark said, frowning. "How do you feel about helping me design a Santa Doombot disguise detector?"

"There was that Doctor Who episode," Banner said, already moving in the direction of the door. "It couldn't hurt to be prepared."

"My thoughts exactly."

Phil watched the two scientists wander away, already deep in discussion about how to potentially rig something up that would cover the entire city. Just the thought of another Doombot-related media disaster made him shudder.

In fact, the thought of any kind of Santa-related disaster made him shudder. Children traumatised by the decapitation of Mickey Mouse would probably be inconsolable if they saw Captain America kill Santa.

"Thor, why don't I find you the real words to some carols?" Darcy said as she extracted herself from the sofa. "You know, so this doesn't happen again."

Thor beamed. "That would be most welcome!"

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve. "Feel like sparring?"

Steve smiled. "That actually sounds like a good idea right now."

"I'll go gentle, promise." Natasha patted his cheek as she walked past. "Just try to keep up."

The door closed quietly behind them and Phil closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the throbbing in his head slowly receding a little. Darcy was right, on the grand scale of media disasters he'd witnessed over the last eighteen months, four Avengers singing foul-mouthed, largely incoherent Christmas songs on CNN was fairly tame.

When he opened his eyes, Clint was watching him with a neutral smile.

"You were very quiet," Phil said.

Clint rolled his eyes. "I tried, I really did, but my bad joke mojo died when I saw Thor singing 'The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen'. Nothing can follow that."

Phil felt his lips twitching as he remembered and then the laughter hit him, bubbling out of nowhere until he was sitting on the sofa with aching ribs and tears streaming down his face and random giggles attacking him just when he thought he'd stopped. Looking up and seeing Clint alternating between laughing and wincing just made it worse.

When Phil finally regained some of his usual calm dignity, he shifted a bit and pulled out the thing that had been digging into his back for the last few minutes. It was a notepad with a page open and covered in Clint's messy scrawl.

"Oh, yeah, that," Clint said. "I was making lists."

"Lists?

Clint shrugged. "JARVIS can get a lot of it, but I figured you could help me get out and choose the important stuff. If you have time."

"I'll make time," Phil promised. "What, exactly, am I making time for?"

Although he looked uncomfortable, Clint met his eyes steadily. "A turkey. Maybe a ham as well. I figured as we're all here together this year, we should do Christmas properly. Last year Nat and I were in Burma for that thing, you were still on medical leave, Thor was stuck on Asgard and everyone else was everywhere except here. It's not something I've done much before, but this year I thought...why not? And we're going to need food and other crap, JARVIS is getting a tree delivered next week, and I kind of know this is stupid but we're like a...a..."

"Family?" Phil supplied.

"Yeah, family." Clint grinned. "A deeply dysfunctional, slightly incestuous-"

"I think I resent that but I can't quite identify why."

"-weird-ass family. So we should do Christmas right this year. You know nobody else will if we don't set something up. We're not exactly a group with a huge amount of experience of awesome Christmases."

Phil studied him carefully, taking in the way Clint was trying to look calm and smooth but his fingers were plucking nervously at the fabric of the sofa.

"I can call my sister and get some advice on turkey selection," he offered.

Clint grinned, sat up and grabbed Phil's tie. "Thank you."

He used the tie to reel Phil into a kiss and Phil didn't mind at all, even if his tie did get distinctly wrinkled in the process.

***

"Boss-man!"

Phil looked up from his computer screen and supressed a wince. Darcy was carrying her usual stack of multi-coloured folders but today she'd accessorised with reindeer antlers, hopefully in honour of the season but with Darcy there was no telling. Sometimes there was just odd head gear and he tried to ignore it.

"Can I help?" Phil asked politely.

Darcy dropped her stack of folders onto his desk and flopped into the guest chair. "Yes. You can tell me what to buy for a trained assassin. I'm thinking scented candles won't work."

He could only sit and blink a couple of times, his train of thought completely derailed because he'd been expecting a rant about admin's latest memo regarding appropriate usage of stationary.

"Why would you think I can help?" he asked.

"Because you've bought shit for her before?" Darcy rolled her eyes. "And, you know, I'm assuming you've been shopping for the other trained assassin in our lives."

"Uh."

"Yeah, boss, I saw the requisition for a garrotte disguised as a bow tie." Darcy said. "Great idea for Clint, he's going to love it. Probably not practical for Natasha, though. She's not the bow tie type even though she'd look fucking amazing. Well done for fiddling the R&D forms to get that on the company dime, boss."

"It's for a mission we're planning next year," Phil said firmly.

Darcy snorted. "Of course it is. So, any ideas? I'd buy her a new gun or some throwing knives, except I don't think she's short of that stuff and I don't know my Glocks from my Walthers."

"I'm not sure how much help I can be," Phil said cautiously. "The gifts I'd give her probably aren't the gifts she should get from her...ah..."

"Sort of girlfriend?" Darcy sighed and slumped. "Good point. Guess this is the thing you have to figure out for yourself when you start dating a superhero assassin. What else are you getting Clint?"

"That's none of your business." Phil gave her his most intimidating glare and tried to change the subject. "Have you decided where you'll be for the holidays?"

"I've got two days of leave. Not enough time to go home so I was figuring I'd hang out here somewhere. Clint mentioned he was cooking lunch in the Tower. Can't go wrong with Clint in the kitchen."

Phil was feeling generous so he decided to let that one pass without comment. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"That's your not so subtle way of telling me to get the hell out of your office and let you do some work, isn't it?"

"I wasn't trying to be subtle."

Darcy stood up and patted the stack of files. "You've got half a dozen intelligence reports, two equipment requisitions to sign off and Mona from HR thought you might like to get an early start on the end of year appraisals. Have fun!"

She hurried out, probably so Phil couldn't say anything about the HR forms, and Phil waited until the door was closed before pulling out a list and ticking a couple of entries. Then he took out his personal cell and dialled a number.

"Phil!" Pepper's voice always sounded warm and happy, even though he often called her with complaints about Stark. "How is Clint?"

Phil sat back in his chair and allowed himself a soft smile. "Healing. Bored. Grumpy."

"Have you threatened to Taser him yet?"

"Repeatedly."

Pepper laughed. "Admit it, you're happy he's home."

"He gets bored very easily."

"I always assumed snipers had a lot of patience."

"When they're on the job, absolutely," Phil said. "Off the job, Clint has no patience. And right now, he's getting his energy levels back but medical still hasn't cleared him for anything except sitting on the sofa and making the odd bathroom trip."

"Ouch." He couldn't hear it, but he could imagine Pepper's grimace. "I can only imagine what that's like."

"Intensely annoying." Phil took a deep breath. "He's actually why I called."

"Oh?" Pepper asked, her voice filled with interest. "What's up? Need help with your shopping?"

"Why does everyone assume I haven't bought any presents yet?"

"Phil, you're a man and it's still two weeks until Christmas."

"I never took you for the type to buy into stereotypes."

There was a short silence and then Pepper said, "I've definitely been involved with Tony for too long. How can I help you?"

"Do you know where you're going to be for Christmas yet?" Phil asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"This is so you don't have to ask Tony, isn't it?" Pepper said shrewdly. "You're trying to ask us to stay in New York for Christmas, Clint probably has his heart set on it, but you don't want to ask Tony."

"I'd rather eat my own liver," Phil admitted.

"That is an image that's both disgusting and disturbing," Pepper said. "Disturbing because it wouldn't surprise me if you had personal experience."

"I don't."

"Hmm." There was a short pause. "I can ask Bruce and Steve to stay as well, if you'd like."

By the time Phil turned off his phone, most of his list had check marks next to it and he'd sent an email to Jane Foster, which covered two more items.

***

Phil stopped in the rec room doorway and watched for a moment. No, he wasn't losing his mind: Clint was watching golf.

He cautiously approached the sofa where Clint was sitting with his foot propped on a stool. There was a book open in his lap and he was cradling a mug of tea against his chest. The tea smelled like one of Banner's soothing ones.

Phil felt in his pocket for his cell phone, just in case he needed to call someone. "Clint?"

"Yes?"

"You're watching golf."

Clint finally looked up at him. "I'm watching golf."

"Why?"

"Because it's marginally less boring than fishing."

It wasn't a particularly reassuring response, from the point of view of assessing whether Clint had been replaced with a duplicate, but in an odd Clint way there was some logic to it. At least golf had a defined goal.

"Why is fishing the other option?" Phil asked calmly.

"JARVIS?" Clint looked up and into the corner. "Why is fishing my only other fucking option?"

There was a small pause before JARVIS answered. "The DVR is currently only showing and recording golf or fishing. Sir."

It was going to be one of _those_ conversations. Phil mentally braced himself. "JARVIS, why is the DVR fascinated by golf and fishing?"

Clint shrugged at the pointed lack of an answer from the ether. "JARVIS and the DVR are having an argument. The DVR is surprisingly creative when its feeling spiteful."

"Why did Stark install an AI in the DVR?" Phil asked.

"Why does Stark install AIs in any of his shit?" Clint hit the power button on the remote and winced when the TV turned off and almost immediately turned back on. "Did you hear?"

"Did I hear what?" Phil asked, allowing Clint to pull him down to the sofa where Clint promptly sprawled all over him.

"Medical cleared me for light upper body training." A kiss was pressed onto Phil's jaw. "And I might have the cast off by Christmas."

"You're still not carrying a turkey around," Phil said firmly. "Your role will be supervisory only."

Clint gave him a deeply unimpressed glare. "Do I look stupid enough to carry vats of hot gravy around when I'm not completely steady on my feet?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

***

"Agent Coulson!"

Darcy looked flustered and Phil, for once, felt some sympathy for her under the intense desire to hide under his desk until Christmas was over. She was standing in the office doorway with her reindeer antlers askew.

"Ms Lewis," Phil said carefully. "How bad is it?"

For one heart-stopping moment it looked like Darcy might actually cry. Then she pulled herself together, pushed her glasses up her nose and walked slowly to Phil's desk. She laid four newspapers out over his paperwork.

"So, when I said 'what if there were Santa Doombots', I was only joking," Darcy said. "I didn't actually want any freaking Santa Doombots."

"None of us did," Phil said dryly.

"Boss, the complaints took down the SHIELD switchboard," Darcy continued. "My inbox exploded. I mean, literally, the server my inbox sits on? Died a flamey death."

"So I heard."

"I'm afraid to even look at Twitter. It's like a civil war on there. Have you got any idea how we can fix this?"

Phil sighed and sat back, trying not to look at the huge photo of Steve Rogers punching Santa. "None at all."

"Yeah, I'm out as well." Darcy looked, for once, completely defeated. "I mean, there's no coming back from this kind of thing is there?"

"Give it some time," Phil said. "I'm sure they'll find a way to make things worse eventually."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

***

There was already the cheerful buzz of friends catching up when Phil arrived in the conference room in Stark Tower three days before Christmas. Somehow Jane had arrived on the same Stark jet that Pepper flew in on: Phil suspected Stark's interference because Jane's original plans had put her in New York late on Christmas Eve.

Thor was beaming widely at everyone and Stark looked smugly pleased with himself, which backed up his suspicions.

Everyone had been subdued since the Santa Doombot incident so watching the team grinning and laughing was a relief. Phil didn't bother to hide his smile as he took a seat next to Clint instead of his usual seat at the head of the table. This wasn't his meeting, after all.

It took a few minutes before everyone quieted down and it was Banner who finally called them to order. He had a stack of booklets on the table in front of him and patted them gently as he sat down.

"Thanks for coming," he said awkwardly.

"How could we resist?" Stark asked. "You never call meetings. You try to avoid meetings. The curiosity was going to kill us."

Banner smiled. "You might not be so eager by the time we finished."

Stark frowned. "And suddenly I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

"Stark, shut up," Natasha said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw Clint roll his eyes and he suppressed a chuckle. Pepper was less subtle and she openly snickered as Stark took in Natasha's glare and posture, paled and made a 'carry on' gesture to Banner.

"Thank you," Banner said, smiling slightly at Natasha. He took a careful breath before continuing. "As a group, we do a lot for the city. For the world. We've protected people and kept them safe. But we've also done a lot of damage while we're trying to help and I'd like to give something back."

Stark opened his mouth to say something, paused and subsided. Phil looked around the group, who were all looking unusually thoughtful. Even Thor.

"I've got a couple of friends who work for food banks and soup kitchens in the city," Banner said, "and they need help. They need people. So...I volunteered us. On Christmas Eve."

There was a long silence and then Darcy grinned. "Bruce, that is an awesome plan. Genius. Who's going to remember Iron Man frying half a dozen elves if they see him helping-"

"We're not doing this as Iron Man or Captain America or Black Widow," Banner said quickly. "We're doing this as Tony and Steve and Natasha. No media, nobody knows we're there. Just a bunch of friends who want to do something for other people before we give each other too many gifts and eat more food than the human body is designed for."

Darcy frowned. "Nothing? Not even a couple of-"

"Nothing," Banner said firmly.

Her face fell but around the table, people were starting to nod and smile approvingly. Phil was slightly surprised to see Stark shrug and nod. He was less surprised when Jane whispered something to Thor that made him grin happily.

"It's a good idea," Steve said. "A very good idea."

"Are there jobs that can be done sitting down?" Clint asked. "Helping sounds great, but the docs were pretty clear about not deviating from my physio program if I want to get back out there any time soon."

Banner shrugged. "We can work some things out."

"Great, then I'm in," Clint said.

"I'd like to help," Phil said and Clint bumped his shoulder in solidarity.

As everyone volunteered and started asking questions about what they'd need and where they were going, Phil watched Banner. His usual slightly shy, calm expression was still firmly in place but there was something else in his eyes. A hint of emotion in his eyes that might have been gratitude, might have been something stronger. Nobody ever discussed it, but Phil had seen his files and he knew that a few years ago, Banner could have been one of the people they were helping.

Half the people in the room had been in that position at some point in their lives. Phil nudged his foot against Clint's and got a smile and a nod that told him Clint knew what he was thinking.

"Thank you," Banner said quietly. "All of you."

"We're still doing the eating more food than our stomachs can hold on Christmas Day thing, right?" Darcy asked. "Nobody's donating our turkey?"

"Darce, they can take our turkey out of my cold dead hands," Clint said firmly.

"Supervisory role only," Phil said. "The turkey will at no stage be in your hands."

Clint flipped him off and Phil rolled his eyes.

***

"Good morning, Agent Coulson."

Phil shifted a little in the bed and groaned as his aching shoulders and back protested. Every muscle felt stiff and sore and waking up was something he definitely didn't want to do, even in his sinfully comfortable bed. He hoped he wasn't the only member of their little troupe feeling the effects of the hours packing boxes at the food bank or this would be embarrassing.

The bed dipped and there was a scratch of stubble against his cheek. The scent of coffee made his nose twitch.

"Agent-"

"I thought we agreed never to use work titles in bed," Phil said without opening his eyes.

The mattress bounced a little, there was a brief cool draft as the blankets were lifted, and then there was warm skin against his back and Clint pressing kisses to his neck.

"Special occasion," Clint said lightly.

Phil felt a smile trying to get loose but he didn't move. "We didn't include a special occasion waiver on that rule. We agreed it wasn't a good idea to associate our titles with anything that happens in the bedroom."

"Or the bathroom."

"Or the bathroom," Phil agreed.

"Or the kitchen. Or the sofa. Or-"

"Clint?"

"Yeah?"

Phil opened his eyes and rolled over, unsurprised to find Clint sharing his pillow. He'd learned early in their relationship that Clint was a bed hog. There was a happy sparkle in Clint's eyes and Phil couldn't resist cupping a hand behind Clint's head and to pull him in for a slow kiss.

"Merry Christmas," Clint said when they pulled apart.

"If you start singing something sappy, I'm going to Taser you," Phil said, trying to look stern.

Clint's response was to push Phil onto his back and roll onto him, where they could ignore all the social niceties of morning breath in favour of kissing slowly and thoroughly until they were both breathless. Phil definitely approved of this and he hooked an ankle round Clint's thigh just to make sure he knew how much he approved.

"I've got a timetable," Clint said, releasing Phil's lips so he could lick and nuzzle at Phil's throat. "I'm just saying, if we want to eat today there's a timetable."

Phil tilted his head back a little to give Clint better access, shivering when Clint's teeth lightly grazed his skin. "You're the one who started this."

"We've got an hour," Clint said.

"We can do that."

"And that includes scheduled time for present opening."

"I've got the best pre-"

Clint lifted his head and Phil definitely didn't make any whimpering noises in protest at the loss of Clint's extremely talented teeth and tongue.

"If you finish that sentence," Clint said, "there will be consequences. The no unwrapping of anything kind of consequences. There are bad sex jokes and then there's that one."

There was a bright flush in Clint's face, his hair was tousled and his eyes held a hundred lewd promises but Phil had no doubt that he could - and would - do as he threatened.

"That would be a shame," Phil said as calmly as he could, considering Clint was making tiny thrusting motions against his hip. It was incredibly distracting. "I'll try to keep my mouth shut."

Clint snorted. "Fuck, that really _would_ be a shame."

He couldn't help smiling at Clint, smiling and then kissing him and licking into his mouth. Clint was always happy to kiss and it was one of the things about Clint as a lover that Phil genuinely appreciated. As enthusiastic as Clint was about sex, and he was _very_ enthusiastic, he was just as eager to kiss and to keep on kissing even when they were shifting against each other restlessly, just at the edge of something more intense. 

They took their time and Phil definitely didn't keep his mouth shut, but then Clint was never a quiet lover either. He talked, about anything that came into his head however inappropriate, and he was always loudly appreciative if something felt _really_ good. It was the kind of lovemaking that was slow and intense and when the climax came, Phil couldn't tear his eyes away from Clint's.

After, they lay in bed for a long time with Clint sprawled across Phil`s chest while Phil traced idle patterns down his spine.

"Think I've fucked up the timetable," Clint said, his voice still a little hoarse. "Nobody's going to mind if we don't eat until mid-afternoon, are they?"

Phil pressed a kiss against his messy hair. "Pretty sure the kitchen has enough cake and cookies to tide us over if we get hungry."

"Hey, I made coffee earlier," Clint said. "Even got us some muffins. They're still out in the living area."

"Is that a hint?" Phil asked.

"Pretty much." Clint lifted his head and pressed a sloppy kiss on Phil's chin. "Grab the presents while you're up?"

Phil chuckled and reluctantly got out of bed. He reached for the robe lying on a nearby chair but there was a quiet huff of indignation so he left it and padded into the living area. It still amazed him that Clint had such a fascination with his ass and actually wanted to watch him walk around naked.

The pot of coffee was still hot so he poured it into the huge mug he'd bought weeks ago because apparently sharing coffee was their 'thing' now. Or at least, Clint seemed to prefer drinking coffee out of whichever mug Phil happened to be using instead of getting his own. The massive size of mug was partially defensive, to ensure he got a decent amount of coffee despite Clint's blatant thievery.

There was a definite leer on Clint's face when Phil returned to the bedroom and Phil couldn't help feeling a little pleased by the way Clint's eyes lit up as he approached. Clint was sitting propped up with pillows and he took the mug while Phil gathered presents and piled them on the bed. One of his gifts from Darcy was suspiciously calendar shaped and Phil was glad they'd decided not to open gifts as a group. He was a little chilled by the time he was done so he was glad to slide into the bed and cuddle against Clint for a moment. It was purely to warm up, obviously.

"I vote we make this our Christmas tradition," Clint said, taking a gulp of coffee and passing the mug to Phil. "Naked present opening, sex and coffee. Pretty much all my favourite things in one place."

Phil smiled. "I'm glad I rank above coffee on your list of favourite things."

Clint shrugged. "Always."

"Huh." Phil took a thoughtful sip of coffee. It was the first sign Clint had given that he expected they'd still be together in a year's time and Phil felt something bright and happy spread through his chest. "I can't guarantee we'll never have to work on Christmas Day, but having a tradition to aim for would be nice."

"Yeah, it really would." Clint grinned and handed over a long, thin present in brightly coloured wrapping paper. "Merry Christmas. Now get opening, we've got turkey to cook."


End file.
